I am just sitting down to write. I am awake and it is 3:38 am and that is not good. I should be in bed. Why does my body do this to me?
My wonderful sweet loving husband can go to bed at 11pm every night, and when his head hits the pillow, he is out like Ellen.
I have never been like that. I have to sit in the bed, all covered up, and read until I can't keep my eyes open. There have been many times that I have fallen asleep with the book in my hand. Hubby usually finds me with the book in my hand, but sometimes I drop it on the floor as a reminder to turn off the lamp. It has proven to be very effective.
I know that right now, people on the west coast are in their beds asleep. People in Hawaii are watching the news before bed. People in Alaska are bitching because it's already dawn. I'm betting that people in Japan are on their way to Karaoke!
Those crazy Karaoke people. I will never understand the whole concept of getting up in front of people and singing off key and thinking they will like it! Come on! There's a reason Brittany lip syncs, people. Why do you go up there and sing songs you obviously don't know? Your timing is off, and you are slightly off key.
Or, if you are really super bad, you have practiced in the car by singing along to the radio, and all you do on stage is harmonize with a voice that isn't there.
Is this really the kind of attention that you crave? Those people applauding, yeah, they're clapping because you STOPPED. You suck at singing.
This is why I do all of my singing in the privacy of my own home/car. I think I can sing, but I know that I'm probably just as bad, if not worse than the people who are being laughed at in the bar. And I am not half as bad as the kid that screams Linkin Park.
Ok, I have to go now. The zombie aliens are here to get me again. They like to stick worms in my head that sing "Bad Romance" by Lady GaGa (WTF her name is a baby sound) all fucking day and night. Ugh, please give them a vuvuzela!
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
The Spud and Dude Show
Back in the day, when I was at the ripe old age of 15 and still walking uphill to and from school, I made some interesting friends.
Two of these friends were Allan and Cory. Allan was the best friend of a guy that I dated for a month, and Cory was a friend that crashed at his place a lot. Subsequently, Cory did not have a wide variety of clothing, so he wore a work shirt all the time. The name on the work shirt was supposed to say "Steve", but it was in that curly ass girl font, and he became known as "Stove".
I could not remember Allan's name the first 5 times I met him, so I constantly called him "Dude", as that was the thing to call people in the 90's. Ahh the 90's.
I was nicknamed "Spud", for my lack of wanting to get off the couch. Seriously.
So I hung out with Allan for at least a year almost every day. It was like we were separated at birth. We liked similar everything. We spent our time doing all kinds of random stuff.
I met Asa on the bus home from school. He always had this beat to shit Walkman (hey, remember those?), and the only person he talked to was his best friend Derek. In the winter, they would walk over to my house and catch a ride to school with me. Asa started coming over after school, and later in the year after wrestling practice. I'm pretty sure he liked my house because I had a mom. Because he didn't. But that's ok, because it's, like, a million years later, and now we share my mom. :)
So summer rolls around, and my mom and step-dad get married, and everybody goes off for a week and comes home. Asa is on my front porch, and his asshole father has kicked him out. So he moves into the basement. Allan, seeing an opportunity to be lazy, also moves into the basement.
This turns out to be a summer like something out of a movie. Asa is obsessed with making things explode, so he frequents the hardware store for things like fuses and gunpowder. He spent three weeks cutting the heads off matches and stuffing them into a tennis ball. That was disappointing.
Allan also likes to blow things up, but in different ways. We spent an entire day filling old coke bottles with vinegar and baking soda. We'd put the cap back on really fast, and then run out to the street and toss the whole thing in the air. It made a nice messy BANG when it hit the ground. It was a total pain in the ass to clean up too.
They also introduced me to my first Chat room. I can't even remember where it was, but I know it was music chat, and I would sit on there for hours.
Allan could clear a room with a fart, even on the internet. He could also burp the entire alphabet, and the phrase "Oreo Cookie" after some practice. He said the hardest part was the K sound.
One day, Asa came home with a half gallon jug of chocolate milk, and a box of Raisin Bran. He drank half the milk and left the rest next to his bed. He then proceeded to eat the ENTIRE box of Raisin Bran. Allan and I were laughing our asses off. That night, before I went to bed, Asa finished off that last quart of chocolate milk. The one he had brought home and left out all day.
The next day he had the worst stomach ache ever and couldn't understand why. My mom still talks about that.
Both of these guys cared about me in their own way, and the best example of this that I can think of is a storm. I am sofucking scared of thunder it makes me want to cry. I do not like being alone during a thunderstorm, and if I am, I will turn the TV up and try my best to ignore it.
So one night, we are having this storm. It's late, and I am in bed, trying to fall asleep. The rain is nice, and I am at that point of almost sleep. BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMM THUNDAR. It is so loud that my window panes are rattling. Thirty seconds later, Allan and Asa show up in my room. No knocking, just run in and make sure I am ok. They stayed through the storm, entertaining me and keeping me distracted, until the thunder stopped. I made a tape recording (blast from the past!) and called it The Spud and Dude show, guest starring Asa. Allan even stayed until I fell asleep.
We constructed many things that summer. Not all of them were combustible. Take, for instance, The Anarchopoly Table.
Sorry, lemme explain. We had an old Monopoly set that didn't have all the pieces. Why we still had it, I have no clue. So when I found a Sharpie in the basement, I decided we were going to remake Monopoly. We changed almost every space on the board. "Jail" became "School", the one place we didn't want to go. There was Oriental- no Chinese, The Pennsyltucky Train, Reading Rainbow, Leaky Faucet, Free Hand Job. Our ideas were insane and there was no sense of order to it AT ALL. This game was entitled: Anarchopoly.
Anywho, the table. So I told Allan that he totally needed to build a table so we had a place to put drinks, and an ash tray. This coming after I spilled my drink into the ash tray for the 3rd time that day. So we went into my step-dad's wood shop and found a bunch of wood. We found 2 pieces that were the same size, and thin and flat, and glued those together for a table top. Then we found 4 pieces of long skinny wood that were approximately the same length. We nailed those on, and PRETSO! We had a table.
It looked so plain, with it's half white, half turquoise top and really old colored wood legs. Then I found my markers. We doodled and scribbled all over this table. It was chaotic. It was poetic. It was the most awesome freaking table to ever be a table. I wish I had a picture of this thing, it was EPIC.
It was called The Anarchopoly Table, and we used it for everything. If we played a game, it was on The Anarchopoly Table. If we were making stuff to blow up, it was on The Anarchopoly Table. When the guys moved out, and I moved down into the basement, I inherited The Anarchopoly Table. I put it in the middle of the room. I did my homework on it, I ate my dinner on it. I sorted my laundry on it. I burned pictures of exes on it.
When I moved out, I was 19. I did not have a place for The Anarchopoly Table. So I left it in the basement, thinking that it would stay there like everything else I put in the basement anyway.
When I moved back 3 months later,The Anarchopoly Table was gone. It turns out that my mom totally hated it, and had wanted to throw it away for YEARS. I was totally mad at her. >:$
Two of these friends were Allan and Cory. Allan was the best friend of a guy that I dated for a month, and Cory was a friend that crashed at his place a lot. Subsequently, Cory did not have a wide variety of clothing, so he wore a work shirt all the time. The name on the work shirt was supposed to say "Steve", but it was in that curly ass girl font, and he became known as "Stove".
I could not remember Allan's name the first 5 times I met him, so I constantly called him "Dude", as that was the thing to call people in the 90's. Ahh the 90's.
I was nicknamed "Spud", for my lack of wanting to get off the couch. Seriously.
So I hung out with Allan for at least a year almost every day. It was like we were separated at birth. We liked similar everything. We spent our time doing all kinds of random stuff.
I met Asa on the bus home from school. He always had this beat to shit Walkman (hey, remember those?), and the only person he talked to was his best friend Derek. In the winter, they would walk over to my house and catch a ride to school with me. Asa started coming over after school, and later in the year after wrestling practice. I'm pretty sure he liked my house because I had a mom. Because he didn't. But that's ok, because it's, like, a million years later, and now we share my mom. :)
So summer rolls around, and my mom and step-dad get married, and everybody goes off for a week and comes home. Asa is on my front porch, and his asshole father has kicked him out. So he moves into the basement. Allan, seeing an opportunity to be lazy, also moves into the basement.
This turns out to be a summer like something out of a movie. Asa is obsessed with making things explode, so he frequents the hardware store for things like fuses and gunpowder. He spent three weeks cutting the heads off matches and stuffing them into a tennis ball. That was disappointing.
Allan also likes to blow things up, but in different ways. We spent an entire day filling old coke bottles with vinegar and baking soda. We'd put the cap back on really fast, and then run out to the street and toss the whole thing in the air. It made a nice messy BANG when it hit the ground. It was a total pain in the ass to clean up too.
They also introduced me to my first Chat room. I can't even remember where it was, but I know it was music chat, and I would sit on there for hours.
Allan could clear a room with a fart, even on the internet. He could also burp the entire alphabet, and the phrase "Oreo Cookie" after some practice. He said the hardest part was the K sound.
One day, Asa came home with a half gallon jug of chocolate milk, and a box of Raisin Bran. He drank half the milk and left the rest next to his bed. He then proceeded to eat the ENTIRE box of Raisin Bran. Allan and I were laughing our asses off. That night, before I went to bed, Asa finished off that last quart of chocolate milk. The one he had brought home and left out all day.
The next day he had the worst stomach ache ever and couldn't understand why. My mom still talks about that.
Both of these guys cared about me in their own way, and the best example of this that I can think of is a storm. I am sofucking scared of thunder it makes me want to cry. I do not like being alone during a thunderstorm, and if I am, I will turn the TV up and try my best to ignore it.
So one night, we are having this storm. It's late, and I am in bed, trying to fall asleep. The rain is nice, and I am at that point of almost sleep. BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMM THUNDAR. It is so loud that my window panes are rattling. Thirty seconds later, Allan and Asa show up in my room. No knocking, just run in and make sure I am ok. They stayed through the storm, entertaining me and keeping me distracted, until the thunder stopped. I made a tape recording (blast from the past!) and called it The Spud and Dude show, guest starring Asa. Allan even stayed until I fell asleep.
We constructed many things that summer. Not all of them were combustible. Take, for instance, The Anarchopoly Table.
Sorry, lemme explain. We had an old Monopoly set that didn't have all the pieces. Why we still had it, I have no clue. So when I found a Sharpie in the basement, I decided we were going to remake Monopoly. We changed almost every space on the board. "Jail" became "School", the one place we didn't want to go. There was Oriental- no Chinese, The Pennsyltucky Train, Reading Rainbow, Leaky Faucet, Free Hand Job. Our ideas were insane and there was no sense of order to it AT ALL. This game was entitled: Anarchopoly.
Anywho, the table. So I told Allan that he totally needed to build a table so we had a place to put drinks, and an ash tray. This coming after I spilled my drink into the ash tray for the 3rd time that day. So we went into my step-dad's wood shop and found a bunch of wood. We found 2 pieces that were the same size, and thin and flat, and glued those together for a table top. Then we found 4 pieces of long skinny wood that were approximately the same length. We nailed those on, and PRETSO! We had a table.
It looked so plain, with it's half white, half turquoise top and really old colored wood legs. Then I found my markers. We doodled and scribbled all over this table. It was chaotic. It was poetic. It was the most awesome freaking table to ever be a table. I wish I had a picture of this thing, it was EPIC.
It was called The Anarchopoly Table, and we used it for everything. If we played a game, it was on The Anarchopoly Table. If we were making stuff to blow up, it was on The Anarchopoly Table. When the guys moved out, and I moved down into the basement, I inherited The Anarchopoly Table. I put it in the middle of the room. I did my homework on it, I ate my dinner on it. I sorted my laundry on it. I burned pictures of exes on it.
When I moved out, I was 19. I did not have a place for The Anarchopoly Table. So I left it in the basement, thinking that it would stay there like everything else I put in the basement anyway.
When I moved back 3 months later,The Anarchopoly Table was gone. It turns out that my mom totally hated it, and had wanted to throw it away for YEARS. I was totally mad at her. >:$
Monday, July 12, 2010
I don't wanna work
I don't like work. I will constantly go the extra mile to avoid working. For the past 2 years, I have been a housewife and part time babysitter. I am such a good housewife that my husband wants to hire a maid.
I hate cleaning. I hate it so much, I will make up excuses. My favorite new excuse: "look! I cleaned 4 hours of soaps off the DVR!".
So now that you know that, I cam give you an honest excuse.
Sorry, no post today, I am busy cleaning!
I hate cleaning. I hate it so much, I will make up excuses. My favorite new excuse: "look! I cleaned 4 hours of soaps off the DVR!".
So now that you know that, I cam give you an honest excuse.
Sorry, no post today, I am busy cleaning!
Friday, July 9, 2010
Another Letter
Dear Newcastle Brown Ale,
Why did you put blank stickers in my husband's 12pk? I am not so sure of other beer drinkers, but I know for sure that my husband does not like to color. I have asked him. On many different occasions.
I would however, like to thank you for providing me with a good use for some markers I happen to have. And and excuse to color like a 5 year old. Actually, those letters are kinda thin, and it takes some skill to trace around them.
Sincerely,
Me
PS- This is what resulted from your cleverly placed sticker madness. Hope you like It!
The beginning:
Yes, those are my markers, and yes, they are kinda sorted by color. I am OCD about how my colors are arranged in the box, because I need to find the color that I want quickly.
Sticker 1: The St. Patty's Day
Colored in many shades of green, the St. Patty's Day Newcastle is both functional and refreshing! Don't worry, it doesn't taste green!
Sticker 2: NewCastle Throwback
With all the companies going back to their roots, Newcastle went back to the eighties, when they did a little too much coke and decided that neon colors would make the logo more noticeable. It worked, however, guys spotted drinking this Newcastle got the shit beat out of them and the word "POOFTER" written on thier forehead in sharpie.
Sticker 3:Girlcastle
Newcastle's early 90's experiment with label colors was to try and get women to drink more beer. Once again, it resulted in guys getting the shit beat out of them and the word "POOFTER" written on thier forehead in sharpie.
Sticker 4: Gothcastle
Oh come on. Everybody had a goth phase. Some people just forgot to burn the evidence.
Sticker 5: The Red White and Bluecastle
Designed for American Independence Day. It works in England too, because the flags are the same color! Too bad England doesn't have an Independence Day. They still have a queen and stuff!
Sticker 6: The Poocastle
What the hell did you expect?! Somebody was gonna actually use these things, and somebody was gonna turn it into something nasty. What do you want from me, I'm not DaVinci, I'm just a bored 27 year old with markers! I can only come up with so many original ideas before I say, Aww fuck it, lets make poo jokes!
Why did you put blank stickers in my husband's 12pk? I am not so sure of other beer drinkers, but I know for sure that my husband does not like to color. I have asked him. On many different occasions.
I would however, like to thank you for providing me with a good use for some markers I happen to have. And and excuse to color like a 5 year old. Actually, those letters are kinda thin, and it takes some skill to trace around them.
Sincerely,
Me
PS- This is what resulted from your cleverly placed sticker madness. Hope you like It!
The beginning:
Yes, those are my markers, and yes, they are kinda sorted by color. I am OCD about how my colors are arranged in the box, because I need to find the color that I want quickly.Sticker 1: The St. Patty's Day
Colored in many shades of green, the St. Patty's Day Newcastle is both functional and refreshing! Don't worry, it doesn't taste green!
Sticker 2: NewCastle Throwback
With all the companies going back to their roots, Newcastle went back to the eighties, when they did a little too much coke and decided that neon colors would make the logo more noticeable. It worked, however, guys spotted drinking this Newcastle got the shit beat out of them and the word "POOFTER" written on thier forehead in sharpie.
Sticker 3:Girlcastle
Newcastle's early 90's experiment with label colors was to try and get women to drink more beer. Once again, it resulted in guys getting the shit beat out of them and the word "POOFTER" written on thier forehead in sharpie.
Sticker 4: Gothcastle
Oh come on. Everybody had a goth phase. Some people just forgot to burn the evidence.
Sticker 5: The Red White and Bluecastle
Designed for American Independence Day. It works in England too, because the flags are the same color! Too bad England doesn't have an Independence Day. They still have a queen and stuff!
Sticker 6: The Poocastle
What the hell did you expect?! Somebody was gonna actually use these things, and somebody was gonna turn it into something nasty. What do you want from me, I'm not DaVinci, I'm just a bored 27 year old with markers! I can only come up with so many original ideas before I say, Aww fuck it, lets make poo jokes!
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Crazy dreams, pt 1
Ok, so last night I had this crazy dream that started out at wendy's. I wanted something light, and the waitress pointed out that theat had a marvelous buffalo shrimp salad that was light on veggies and heavy on flavor. Totally delicious.
So I meet up with some friends, and we go down to the beach. This particular beach is surrounded by small cliffs. In the middle there is a staircase up to an observation deck at the top of the cliffs. Off to the side is a wider space where you can drive you car down and unpack.
So we go down to the beach, and we jump in the water, and everything is awesome. Out of nowhere comes this HUGE tidal wave. It towers above our heads, then sucks us up as it races towards the beach. I start gathering air, and am then sucked under the water. I finally make it our of the water, and I'm on the beach, along with most of the other people. I make it up the stairs onto the observation deck. I can see out in the distance that another tidal wave is coming.
For about the next 30 seconds, I am Spiderman.
I use my web and grab as many people as I can. I pull them all up onto the observation deck, and the second wave crashes into the beach, shaking the cliffs we are on. All the people thank me for saving them, and then look out over the railing and see that everybody else is GONE. Another huge tidal wave is coming. I run away. This mask is itchy.
So I find this house, and change there. There are two girls and their parents who live here. The older girl is about 15, and she thinks she is a super hero. They younger girl is about 7, and very sweet. The father is obsessed with the TV. He refuses to turn it off and come to bed. The mom is tired and ready to go to sleep.
I hear screaming from the beach. I run to look out the window, and there is a police bot shooting at random people. This is really odd, as no one has done anything wrong.
Just so you know, a police bot is square, and has lots of options that you can choose by pressing buttons on it's front. It was designed to be used by anybody, so there are all kinds of pictures next to the buttons. It almost looks like a fast food menu board.
So, the older girl in the house decides that she has to do something to save these people from the police bot, so she pulls out this giant laser gun thing, and starts blasting the empty building across the street. Her plan works, now the police bot is searching the house. I try to hide, which is easy enough because the bot is not searching with it's heat sensors, just by sight.
It shoots the little girl through the bathroom window. The mother begs the father to come to bed. I see a good hiding place. I climb in the second bed and pull the covers over my head. I hear the bot shoot the father through a window, and then the older girl. The mother tells me to go to sleep and everything will be ok. I fall asleep to the sound of the bot hovering outside the window.
This is just one of the strange dreams I have had, and you will definitely be getting more of these.
So I meet up with some friends, and we go down to the beach. This particular beach is surrounded by small cliffs. In the middle there is a staircase up to an observation deck at the top of the cliffs. Off to the side is a wider space where you can drive you car down and unpack.
So we go down to the beach, and we jump in the water, and everything is awesome. Out of nowhere comes this HUGE tidal wave. It towers above our heads, then sucks us up as it races towards the beach. I start gathering air, and am then sucked under the water. I finally make it our of the water, and I'm on the beach, along with most of the other people. I make it up the stairs onto the observation deck. I can see out in the distance that another tidal wave is coming.
For about the next 30 seconds, I am Spiderman.
I use my web and grab as many people as I can. I pull them all up onto the observation deck, and the second wave crashes into the beach, shaking the cliffs we are on. All the people thank me for saving them, and then look out over the railing and see that everybody else is GONE. Another huge tidal wave is coming. I run away. This mask is itchy.
So I find this house, and change there. There are two girls and their parents who live here. The older girl is about 15, and she thinks she is a super hero. They younger girl is about 7, and very sweet. The father is obsessed with the TV. He refuses to turn it off and come to bed. The mom is tired and ready to go to sleep.
I hear screaming from the beach. I run to look out the window, and there is a police bot shooting at random people. This is really odd, as no one has done anything wrong.
Just so you know, a police bot is square, and has lots of options that you can choose by pressing buttons on it's front. It was designed to be used by anybody, so there are all kinds of pictures next to the buttons. It almost looks like a fast food menu board.
So, the older girl in the house decides that she has to do something to save these people from the police bot, so she pulls out this giant laser gun thing, and starts blasting the empty building across the street. Her plan works, now the police bot is searching the house. I try to hide, which is easy enough because the bot is not searching with it's heat sensors, just by sight.
It shoots the little girl through the bathroom window. The mother begs the father to come to bed. I see a good hiding place. I climb in the second bed and pull the covers over my head. I hear the bot shoot the father through a window, and then the older girl. The mother tells me to go to sleep and everything will be ok. I fall asleep to the sound of the bot hovering outside the window.
This is just one of the strange dreams I have had, and you will definitely be getting more of these.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Oh crap! I gotta post!
Sorry, I totally forgot to wake up and blog today. Turns out that I really wanted to start cleaning out my bonus room. I have been waiting all summer to wake up with that feeling.
My bonus room is horrible. It is full of everything. All the crap that didn't go downstairs. All the stuff that we have replaced. Like the old tv. The old video games.
It looks awful. It looks almost as bad as NOLA after Katrina. With less poop. And hopefully less water. It's true, here:
It is my goal to eventually clean it out and turn it into a rec room. I mean, we have all the stuff in there to turn it into a rec room. I just have to get all the crap out of there.
Every time I try to go to work in there, I get to a point where I have too many piles. I have a pile to throw away, a pile for Bob to go through, and several piles of my own stuff that I am trying to sort through.
So what am I ever going to do with those candle making molds? Seriosly, I have made all of 2 candles with this stuff, and they turned out awesome. Except I don't thing I will ever have a use for that stuff, unless there is an apocalypse. Then, with no electricity, we would need candles.
This is the logic I usually apply in order to justify keeping stuff like that.
What I should actually do is take the stuff that would be helpful in case of apocalypse, and put it in a box in the attic. I would then throw away all the crap that I know I will never actually use. This is what I hope to be able to accomplish over the next couple of weeks, so I can clean out my bonus room.
Then you have things like stuffed animals. I want to save them for my kids that I haven't had yet.
And then there are the boxes of stuff that you don't know what that is.
And once you hit 3 or 4 of those, you lose hope and give up.
Again.
My bonus room is horrible. It is full of everything. All the crap that didn't go downstairs. All the stuff that we have replaced. Like the old tv. The old video games.
It looks awful. It looks almost as bad as NOLA after Katrina. With less poop. And hopefully less water. It's true, here:
It is my goal to eventually clean it out and turn it into a rec room. I mean, we have all the stuff in there to turn it into a rec room. I just have to get all the crap out of there.
Every time I try to go to work in there, I get to a point where I have too many piles. I have a pile to throw away, a pile for Bob to go through, and several piles of my own stuff that I am trying to sort through.
So what am I ever going to do with those candle making molds? Seriosly, I have made all of 2 candles with this stuff, and they turned out awesome. Except I don't thing I will ever have a use for that stuff, unless there is an apocalypse. Then, with no electricity, we would need candles.
This is the logic I usually apply in order to justify keeping stuff like that.
What I should actually do is take the stuff that would be helpful in case of apocalypse, and put it in a box in the attic. I would then throw away all the crap that I know I will never actually use. This is what I hope to be able to accomplish over the next couple of weeks, so I can clean out my bonus room.
Then you have things like stuffed animals. I want to save them for my kids that I haven't had yet.
And then there are the boxes of stuff that you don't know what that is.
And once you hit 3 or 4 of those, you lose hope and give up.
Again.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Elections are total crap
Ok, I am willing to bet that this one will get me flamed, when and if this thing ever gets readers.
Before I go any farther with this, I refuse to divulge my political leanings, mostly because I have none.
I like elections. I like being able to have a say in who gets to fuck up the country and or state for the next 4-8 years. Every adult citizen has this right.
Sadly, a lot of people do not choose the exercise this right. They are idiots. Seriously, you're going to let a bunch of people you don't know make decisions for you?! What are you, like 8?
Mainly, I like voting because it gives me a right to bitch. When everybody was bitching about how Bush delayed his reaction to the Katrina disaster, I was right there in it. Hooray for being able to complain about the government! It seems like once you hit 25, that's your favorite new thing!
Some people think the best way to settle this argument is with one simple question: "did you vote?". This is meant to befuddle the person bitching, because if you don't vote, you have no right to complain about who you got, or what stupid thing they did at dinner with that foreign dignitary.
But they act all shocked and stuff, when I come back with "yes, did you?". Because most people I talk to do not realize that I like voting. Besides, you get a sticker! It looks like this!
I vote in primaries when I find out on time. I know where to go if I want to vote early (which I did last presidential election). I encourage my friends to vote. If I had a PA on my car I would blast "Vote or Die" every where.
I also do something else that freaks people out. I research my candidates, beeyoch!
That's right, I take the time out to examine their campaign sites, look them up on wikipedia, and google them. It helps to know who you are voting for and if they are a baby killer who hates educating tomorrow's working men and loves chromium tainted toys from China.
During the presidential primary in 2008, this process helped me pick a candidate who claimed (because all politicians lie, it's part of the job) to support a lot of the same things I do.
And by the way, I do not support ANY candidate who is for offshore drilling. I feel the same as I did 2 years ago, and it's nice to look at half the country and say "I told you that was a bad idea". But I am all for the baby killing.
LOL this pic is just funny.
So basically, I'm telling everybody who reads this to go vote in your local elections, go vote in your national elections, just get off your ass and vote! It is so worth it, just so you can look at your mom and say "you voted for that asshole that choked himself with a pretzel, and told people about it?!".
Before I go any farther with this, I refuse to divulge my political leanings, mostly because I have none.
I like elections. I like being able to have a say in who gets to fuck up the country and or state for the next 4-8 years. Every adult citizen has this right.
Sadly, a lot of people do not choose the exercise this right. They are idiots. Seriously, you're going to let a bunch of people you don't know make decisions for you?! What are you, like 8?
Mainly, I like voting because it gives me a right to bitch. When everybody was bitching about how Bush delayed his reaction to the Katrina disaster, I was right there in it. Hooray for being able to complain about the government! It seems like once you hit 25, that's your favorite new thing!
Some people think the best way to settle this argument is with one simple question: "did you vote?". This is meant to befuddle the person bitching, because if you don't vote, you have no right to complain about who you got, or what stupid thing they did at dinner with that foreign dignitary.
But they act all shocked and stuff, when I come back with "yes, did you?". Because most people I talk to do not realize that I like voting. Besides, you get a sticker! It looks like this!
I vote in primaries when I find out on time. I know where to go if I want to vote early (which I did last presidential election). I encourage my friends to vote. If I had a PA on my car I would blast "Vote or Die" every where.
I also do something else that freaks people out. I research my candidates, beeyoch!
That's right, I take the time out to examine their campaign sites, look them up on wikipedia, and google them. It helps to know who you are voting for and if they are a baby killer who hates educating tomorrow's working men and loves chromium tainted toys from China.
During the presidential primary in 2008, this process helped me pick a candidate who claimed (because all politicians lie, it's part of the job) to support a lot of the same things I do.
And by the way, I do not support ANY candidate who is for offshore drilling. I feel the same as I did 2 years ago, and it's nice to look at half the country and say "I told you that was a bad idea". But I am all for the baby killing.
LOL this pic is just funny.So basically, I'm telling everybody who reads this to go vote in your local elections, go vote in your national elections, just get off your ass and vote! It is so worth it, just so you can look at your mom and say "you voted for that asshole that choked himself with a pretzel, and told people about it?!".
Friday, July 2, 2010
I don't know what I am writing about yet
Hello! It is 9:15 AM and I am Awake. Again. Ugh.
You'll have to excuse me if I write a little bit groggy, but this is killing my schedule. I got used to passing out around 3 or 4 am, and sleeping until noon.
Imagine if you had to go do stuff at 3am! You'd be wiping your ass with hand towels and brushing your teeth with cuticle cream. Especially after a whole week of it.
This is why I don't go to Costco on Saturdays.
This is Friday. That's the picture of the line I was just in. Really.
Now I get to go to publix to grab a few things I need for the weekend.
Hey grammar Nazis!
Have a wonderful 4th of July!!!
You'll have to excuse me if I write a little bit groggy, but this is killing my schedule. I got used to passing out around 3 or 4 am, and sleeping until noon.
Imagine if you had to go do stuff at 3am! You'd be wiping your ass with hand towels and brushing your teeth with cuticle cream. Especially after a whole week of it.
This is why I don't go to Costco on Saturdays.
This is Friday. That's the picture of the line I was just in. Really.
Now I get to go to publix to grab a few things I need for the weekend.
Hey grammar Nazis!
Have a wonderful 4th of July!!!
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Sorry guys
I can't think of anything to write about.
So, here's what I look like straight out of bed.
I promise that I will try harder tomorrow.
So, here's what I look like straight out of bed.
I promise that I will try harder tomorrow.
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